


In Hell's Hands

by Lirriel



Series: Within the Over-Soul [2]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Temporary Character Death, Virtual Reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3835645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lirriel/pseuds/Lirriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Power requires sacrifice, and Rythian's actions in the world of Oversoul have long-reaching consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Hell's Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think of the text messages between players! Originally I had this in HTML format, but AO3 was crying so I swapped to screenshots, lol. Thanks a lot to everyone who left kudos and comments, it was really nice to see my rambling over-complicated MMO AU received so well. :D

Bustling, busy, cybernetic Chinatown roared with noise. Incense hung heavily in the air, mingling with steam that puffed from the machinery grinding away. The automatons worked tirelessly, silhouetted in the night sky and illuminated by paper lanterns that floated lazily along a river of energy seen only by the stormcallers.  Paper cranes littered the hard gravel ground, many missing wings or heads and all bearing signs of abuse from the people who trampled over them, eager to partake in another night of revelry.

Seated at one of the many street stalls that lined the roads, Ravs kept one eye on the partygoers that stumbled past him or ducked in beside him to snatch a quick drink and a quick breath. His whiskey tasted sour, burning his mouth and his nose, and while normally he would have drunk with abandon until the flame tamed into liquid warmth, he was expected tonight. No time for drunkenness. At least, not the kind he could commit himself to.

The NPC bartender that served him was exactly the sort of guy he expected to find in a cyberpunk town, harkening back to 80s sci-fi, grimy and low-tech. _Neon grunge_ , he thought, and downed another shot. He shook his head when the cyborg came close with another bottle, eyeing the dark metal plating covering the bartender’s skull. The NPC relented and backed off, silently going about his business of serving out shots to other patrons.

A ping sounded in his left ear and he glanced up and right, squinting to read the message that had appeared in the corner of his vision, hovering obnoxiously. He blinked, shutting off the interface and pushed himself away from the makeshift bar with a sigh.

“Duty calls,” he told the bartender cheerfully and received a flat look in response. Disappointed but not expecting much different, Ravs turned away with a half-shrug. That was the only problem with the technologically-advanced servers: none of the NPCs put any effort into appearing human, the way the old-fashioned ones had to. Go up to a knight on a medieval-style server? You would get the whole shebang, including m’lords and m’ladies and gallant speeches until your ears were ringing, and you wished NPCs were killable on the all-level servers.

At least the alcohol was good.

Traveling to the outskirts of the city took awhile. Someone at some point had brought out the parade dragons and now everyone was forming a conga-line, lining up for their chance to dance the night away covered in an eastern dragon’s skin, making its large, cartoonish face roar and breathe fire. Ravs had to shove a few aside, including a number of couples that didn't look quite old enough to participate in a night parade like this. He would have blamed the parents, but he was young enough to remember how often he had disobeyed. Instead he grinned and even gave an eyebrow waggle of approval a few times.

The end of the city came abruptly. One moment he was in hazy smoke and artificial light, being bombarded with sound, and the next—he was outside, the sounds still there but muffled, the harsh light now dim and grainy as it struggled around sharp metallic edges. The outside also brought cold, and he shivered, red spots appearing on his cheeks.

Flat, desert land stretched out before him. Desert and then a gaping maw, a long-running crack in the ground that dove deep into the earth. Ravs squinted to see it in the sudden absence of light. It was just a flat black to his vision, an unknown that dared him to walk closer.

“You’re here,” the soft, smooth voice came from a building’s shadow. Ravs, looking closer, could see the solid outline of a man and grinned.

“Rythian,” he chuckled out. “Took your time, my friend.”

The ender artificer shrugged noncommittally. His purple eyes flashed as he looked past Ravs and at the cavernous wound that loomed in the distance. “I had some difficulty acquiring the egg,” he said.

He stepped past Ravs, his body untouched in spite of his words. Only the slight misshapen bulge of his cloak gave away the secret he carried beneath it. The egg he had stolen, nestled against his side to keep it warm and alive, its heart beating in time with his own.

“Where’s Zoey and Tee?” Ravs asked, surprised to see Rythian without his flame-haired follower or the shadow that so often tailed both.

Rythian shook his head, his eyes bright and feverish, and started toward the crack, the wound in the world. Ravs tracked him at a leisurely distance, unsurprised by the other’s dismissal of his question. It wasn't relevant to the task at hand, therefore it could wait until later. Ravs hoped it would be later, preferably with lots of drinking in a pub that smelled like spices and sweat instead of the synthetic flower scent that wreathed the city behind him.

Up close, the canyon’s full enormity was revealed. Its depths plunged so deep into the planet’s core that even one of Rythian’s whistling rings, dropped from his hand with an uncaring hand, was quickly swallowed up by the gloom, its low whine fading quickly into obscurity. Rythian smiled, flashing white teeth in the dark night.

“Perfect,” was his prognosis.

Then he stepped over the edge and plummeted down into the darkness.

Ravs sighed and hunched his shoulders, working at a crick that wormed its way down his neck and settled between his shoulder blades. He grunted in satisfaction when it melted away with a satisfying crack. “Right then,” he murmured to no one, taking comfort in the smooth baritone that stroked his ears. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

The brewmeister reached into the messenger bag he kept slung around one shoulder, tugging out a bottle and popping its cork. Not everclear, he thought, recognizing the thickness as belonging to one of his lower-grade brews. _Thirty-five, forty? Fukkit, good enough._

The alcohol burned down his throat, scorching and heady, massaging his taste buds. He gulped the entirety of it, tossing aside the empty container even as his stomach, throat, and mouth all rebelled. He swallowed hard, sucking crisp air and dove down into the canyon after his old friend.

The darkness blanketed him, and he took some of the alcohol’s acidity, transforming it to energy and from energy it became magic. An angry red, the magic wrapped tightly around him, seeking out his eyes and suddenly the world exploded in color. _Fuck, sixty._ He squinted, blinded and redirected some of the magic to his legs before sending the remainder through his bones. Fire licked up his bones, seared trails through his veins, and his landing came with a great rumbling roar and crash as the ground beneath his feet buckled beneath his velocity.

“Oh, come on!” he complained as he stepped away from the ruined shards of stone, pieces crumbling beneath his feet. “I’m not _that_ heavy!”

The magic in his legs had been used up entirely, but his eyes retained their perfect clarity in the pitch black. Ravs was pleased to find his strengthening spell hadn’t been drained from his landing, his movements strong and sure as he turned, gazing around at his surroundings.

In the depths of the crevice, obsidian replaced much of the natural stone. Chiseled dragon faces with gleaming amethyst eyes glared at him from the walls and beneath his feet lay runic blocks, the magic in them bright and flickering the way archaic energy never did. Farther into the canyon, beneath one of the obsidian dragons with outstretched wings, Rythian stood on an altar.

Ravs stepped toward him carefully, moving quietly even though he knew Rythian could see as well as he could. One of the perks of being an ender artificer. At the foot of the altar he stopped and watched, unwilling to step closer. He and Rythian were friends, long-time friends, from back in the old days when games were still played on computers, but he knew the other man would never forgive him if he interfered. Or worse, if he took the reward after Rythian’s months of planning.

Maybe he should have made himself scarce like Zoey and Teep, but Rythian had asked for his support. All he could do was stand and watch.

Rythian stood at the center of the altar, bent over a raised basin, his hands gripping the bowl’s edges tightly. Eggshell littered the floor around him, mottled cranberry and black, and Ravs thought longingly of rumberry. All the ethanol in his body had been burned up by the magic, and he was horrendously sober.

Rythian’s hands trembled as he slowly tugged at the basin, stone grinding against stone as the heavy container moved and bright red blood splashed over the lip, shadows gathering where it landed. Ravs’ eyes narrowed, and he moved his hand once more to the bag slung over his shoulder. They were no longer alone.

He spun quickly, yanking the smallest bottle in his satchel clear, catching the cork between his teeth and tugging even as the shadow men appeared, purple eyes slashing through the dark as they galloped down the walls of the canyon, running on all fours in a skittering crawl that bent their humanoid limbs in unnatural places. Behind the brewmeister, Rythian still struggled to lift the heavy bowl to his lips, whispers spilling over its edges the same way the blood had.

The enderborn responded to their dead monarch’s cries, frenzied howls echoing through the night. The cork between Ravs’ teeth gave with a suddenness that surprised him, and he sloshed half of the bottle’s contents onto his front. The rest he poured down his throat, throwing his head back and baring his neck to the creatures who were almost upon him, their needle teeth chattering.

The bottle spun away, slapped from his hands by an enderborn’s talons, and Ravs cried out in pain as the dark beast’s claws raked through the magic interwoven into his blood, severing it.

The magic lying heavily in his belly burned and rushed up, lending speed and strength to his limbs as he brought his other hand around to catch the enderman’s throat, his fingers sinking into its inky-black hide.

“Sonnuvabitch,” he hissed at the creature, ignoring the wounds it scored across his biceps as it struggled to free itself. “Like hell it’d be that easy!” A bestial roar ripped itself free of his throat as he jerked the ender creature up and then slammed it down, sending his magic chasing after it. Ethanol cleansed and ethanol burned and those were the components that the developers of Oversoul had chosen to implement in their limited edition Brewmeister class. The fire that had licked Ravs’ bones now poured out of his pores, enveloping the enderborn while it cowered on the ground.

Cleansing fire devoured the dark magic, and the enderborn that had lagged behind hissed and scuttled away from the white flames that rose from their brethren’s corpse. Ravs stood there, breathing heavily. _That should keep them at bay for a bit_ , he thought and reached down to grab another bottle from his bag.

Pain exploded behind right ear, a terrible grinding sound following it. One moment he was standing and the next he was on the ground, his vision obscured by black hides that swarmed over him. _Oh right_ , he thought. _I forgot there might be some behind me._

Needle fangs sank eagerly into his body, ripping away skin to reveal the veins beneath, carefully extracting a line then tugging until the cord snapped, blood spraying. What was considered a brewmeister’s greatest strength, the ability to hide blood in their very veins, now proved to be his greatest downfall. An excruciatingly painful downfall that made Jonathan Whitten of window-washing fame squint and grit his teeth behind the goggles, his mind withdrawing from the world as he sought to escape the pain ripping through Ravs’ body with a thousand needle teeth.

When the end came, it came sweetly, gently. The darkness around him was soft, and he floated. Slowly lights flickered into existence around him, and Ravs sighed, on his back and unable to move.

The end was different for everyone. Even with child-lock on, which prevented the pain from directly assaulting the player’s senses, the end was always slow and long and peaceful. It was a way for players experiencing death for the first time to recalibrate. Ravs hadn’t died in a long time, not since the game’s first event hosted both in and out of the game, where he had won the brewmeister class and been given a chance to play it. Now at max level, the darkness that gently swept over him wasn’t calming—it was annoying, frustrating when he knew Rythian was alone against that massive horde. He would survive for only as long as his skills lasted and then it would all be wasted.

In real life, he drummed his fingers impatiently against his desk, years of playing old school with a mouse and keyboard still ingrained in his senses.

At last, after what had been ten, twenty seconds total but had felt unbearably long the way tense situations always did, the lights flickered out, and he was standing in a darkness that was actually permeable. He recognized it as the bottom of the canyon and he dug around in his bag, searching for another bottle to give him perfect sight. His hand grasped clumsily, dropping the crystalline bottle once before he got his hammering heart under control. He gave no thought to the alcohol content as he drank it down, focused only on weaving the magic into his eyes once more, sending the rest up into his brain to burn off the revival sickness that always hung around for the first few minutes after reanimation.

He was still in the same place he had died, he realized as color bloomed in his eyes and once more the canyon bottom became visible. At his feet was a bundle of rags he recognized as his old, crumpled clothes. Strips of skin, some with hair, some with chunks of meat were scattered around the miserable pile. Ravs barely gave it pause as he swept his gaze around, untrusting of the quiet that had descended into the crevice.

At last he spotted, there, on the top of the altar. It was Rythian, but he was bent over, his cloak spread around him and his hands clutching tightly at his skull. Ravs’ heart jumped into his throat and he hurried up the altar steps, his feet pounding loudly in the silence.

“Rythian, Rythian,” he babbled as he reached the other man, kneeling beside him, “Hey, hey, what happened?” There was no reply and he dared to reach out and grasp the other’s wrist, trying to tug it away from the ender artificer’s face so he could see. Guilt of failing his mission bubbled up inside him, insistent like stomach acid. “Rythian, talk to me,” he said, terrified of the scent of blood that swamped his nostrils.

“I’m—fine,” Rythian ground out, his voice strange. “Let’s leave,” he managed to add, and then the clear tone of an ender teleport surrounded them. Ravs stepped away as they materialized back on the desert above the altar. Night had given way to day and Rythian hunched more miserably than before.

“Let me see,” Ravs said, worry lending strength to his command. “Rythian, let me see, man.”

“Ravs,” Rythian said softly, “What was our purpose for doing all this?”

Despite his concern, Ravs couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Their purpose had been stupid, he had already decided that. Still, he recounted their reasoning patiently, feeling like a schoolboy called on to read out a passage. “You were reading through some of those books at that gigantic library in the Atlantis dungeon and found some passages referring to Agartha, the city at the center of the world. They hunted enderborn.” He paused here and reached back to rub the back of his neck. Rythian and his damned roleplaying. It was fun, cute even, but he had been far too excited at the prospect of there being a hidden class focused entirely around hunting ender beings and utilizing their power against them.

“You didn’t read them, did you?” Rythian’s voice was still strange, but at least it had grown stronger.

Ravs shrugged. “I’m not big on in-game lore, mate. Typically reads like shit, anyway.”

Rythian said softly, “I read it. I didn’t think—.” He paused, swallowed and then rose to his full height, making Ravs roll his eyes irritably, most of his worry now replaced with annoyance because Rythian was obviously fine. Then the ender artificer lowered his hands from his face, and Ravs’ breath caught in his throat.

Rythian’s purple eyes still shimmered, human-like, and the top-half of his face was humanoid despite the shift in skin tone to a dusky pale purple. Everything below the eyes, Ravs preferred not to look at. His lips had been pulled back, revealing the same sharp needle-teeth the enderborn carried in their jaws and his jawline now swept back in a series of spikes that formed a jagged protection for his neck from the sides, flared out far enough that he could still turn his head comfortably without them raking across his throat. The needle teeth were so large that his nose had been pushed almost flat, the nostrils flattened out like heat pits. The arch of his nose still existed, and Rythian allowed one good look, before he tore off a piece of his cloak and wrapped it quietly around his mouth, obscuring the bottom half of his face.

“The enderbane took on the properties of the enderborn to properly hunt them,” Rythian said in explanation. “I thought they meant just their physical skills, their magic-rending power.” Then he seemed to recover and smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in good humor. “You gotta admit, this _is_ pretty cool.”

 _Only Rythian_ , Ravs thought and chuckled as well, happy his friends was happy. He preferred not to think of the horde that had faced them and suddenly vanished in the countdown to his rebirth. He didn't even pause to consider where all the bodies had gone.

 

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

The next day found them waiting at the server switch terminal. Ravs had finished up his work as quickly as possible, but despite all his efforts, Rythian was the one waiting for him this time. The enderbane (that was his new class now, even the character select screen said so) stood patiently with his hands clasped behind his back outside the transfer pod to the Mytilini server. Ravs wasn’t surprised to see a scarf swaddling his lower jaw, but he was surprised by the color: pristine white, a dazzlingly stark contrast to the rest of his outfit which consisted of pruney purple and jet black.  The tips of the scarf were emblazoned with delicate golden threading, forming a pattern Ravs couldn't begin to describe.

“Nice threads,” he complimented, meaning it. The scarf was a simple addition but it gave Rythian a friendliness that hadn’t been there before. It made him approachable; wise instead of broody, and when his purple eyes widened, it was almost quite fetching.  

“Hey,” Rythian said, his countenance relaxed.  He offered a wave and then gestured at the pod behind him. “Shall we?”

“Sure,” Ravs agreed, following Rythian into the mechanical contraption, the door sliding shut behind them with a _slooping noise_. Like all electronically-advanced servers, the Diyu server was an easy one to transfer out of; it wasn’t like the medieval servers that had to rely on complicated Gregorian chanting and blood rituals. Just step into the pod, stare at the metal casing and watch the loose wires spark dangerously.

Beside him, Rythian was rigid, flecks of static occasionally crossing up his body. The man behind the goggles, the real Rythian, had probably taken them off for a sip of tea or a bite of something. Ravs hadn’t been logged in long enough to feel his attention waning, and he stayed connected for the entirety of the transfer. The pod rumbled to signify the transfer, and Rythian solidified, wiping himself down.

“Got a few crumbs on me,” he said as way of explanation to Ravs, and the brewmeister nodded, unsurprised.

“Please watch your step,” a voice informed them as they left the pod.

“This that Greek server?” Ravs asked Rythian as they headed through the main lobby and out the front door. The difference in atmosphere hit him immediately, and he fanned himself. Like its real-life counterpart, the Mytilini server was host to a mild Mediterranean climate, rarely experiencing extreme cold and most often putting forth a day that shone with sunlight.

Rythian grinned beneath his scarf, and Ravs scowled at him. “How come this isn't affecting you?” he asked suspiciously. He knew enough that the player Rythian was from Sweden, and Sweden was even worse than Scotland when it came to its cold climate. Swaddled in clothes the way he was, the ender artificer—no, enderbane, now—should have been heading for the nearest cold confections shop and shoving his head into one of the ice cream bins.

The other man just answered him with a shrug, his eyes shining. Ravs turned away with a grumble and stalked away from him, having spotted a convenience shop. This server was modern, and the NPC who served him was dressed fashionably, offering a sunny smile as he packaged up the small handheld fan that Ravs purchased with a bit of his coinage. He was sure the fee was absolutely outrageous, as most tourist shop items were, but he hadn’t checked how Mytilini economy differed from some of the others he’d been on.

 _I’ll just earn it back with a few quests_ , he told himself as he walked back to Rythian, holding up the mini fan so it blew straight into his face.

The taller man gave him a fond look then started off, Ravs having to lengthen his stride to keep up. Eventually the pair came across a brick path lined with wildflowers, and it was this path that Rythian followed, a playful sea breeze making his cloak and scarf romp. Ravs was content to lag behind, safe in the knowledge that no aggressive creatures would reveal themselves so close to one of Mytilini’s central hubs.

They came presently upon their destination, a bungalow covered in an array of flowers. From within came the sound of tinkling laughter, and Ravs didn't fight the smile that crept onto his face.

“Hullo!” Rythian called, stepping through the front door and holding it open for Ravs. The inside of the house was small. It was a small craftsman, the front porch leading directly into the living room, a raised bar separating it from the kitchen. An archway led into the second half of the house, but Ravs wasn't the type to snoop. And besides, he was busy—his eyes rested on the young woman who was seated at the raised bar, her back and a tumble of fiery-red hair aimed in his direction.

As he and Rythian stepped into the house, the door swinging shut behind them, she turned. The large smile that spread across her face wrinkled the two blue bars she had tattooed into one cheek, and her skin was tanner than it once had been, darkened to a healthy bronze by constant Grecian sunlight. She had traded in her adventuring clothes for a pair of coveralls clipped over a white t-shirt and her robotic arm had been swapped out for a realistic-looking one. He almost would have thought it was real flesh-and-blood, if not for the joint line that ran across her bicep. He took all of her in with barely a moment passing and felt himself relax entirely, the warmth of the server no longer suffocating, his secretive worry over Rythian no longer weighing down his shoulders. In her smile, everything seemed perfect.

“You look good, Zoey.” Rythian said softly.

The technomage smiled, hopping off her bar stool and pattering over barefoot to give the pair a hug. “Hey, guys,” she said. “Teep and I have missed you lots!”

And even though Ravs was sure he had always been there, the shadow was suddenly visible, perched on another bar stool. He sat facing toward them, but the only thing he had to offer them was a wave. Ravs returned it, used to the man’s quiet ways; he only came alive when there was something to hunt or a challenge to be completed. Otherwise, he was corpse-like, a shadow that attached itself to Zoeya or Rythian until it was needed. In old days he’d given Ravs the creeps, but it just seemed normal now.

“How are you, Zoey? Where’s Fiona?” Rythian was already fussing over her, his entire countenance relaxed.

She smiled and shrugged, “Pretty good. Fiona’s working but once she gets off work, we’re going to marathon this new show she picked out!” She started walking back to the bar, gesturing to a pair of empty seats. “Come and sit; you've gotta tell me how the ender stuff went!”

Rythian and Ravs did as she commanded, and Ravs busied himself with sorting through his bottles of alcohol, taking stock of what he had and what he needed to replace. It was only at Zoey’s too-loud gasp in such a small house that he tuned back in, turning toward the conversation.

She was staring at Rythian’s face, specifically the bottom half of it. In direct lighting it came across as even more alien, the skin appearing sandpaper-like. Teep’s flat black eyes were also trained on Rythian’s face, with something akin to hunger, but the shadow’s expression quickly became disinterested when he noticed Ravs’ own eyes on him.

Then Zoey smiled and once more swept Rythian up into a hug. “That looks awesome! Like, awesomely scary, but still really awesome!” Then she added, “You should really show Lalna!” and Rythian’s face hardened, closing off sharply and abruptly. Ravs internally winced.

The technomage reacted quickly, though, crossing her arms and raising one eyebrow. She gave Rythian a pointed look, and Ravs marveled at the transformation Fiona had wrought, gifting his friend with confidence into addition to her love. “No, Rythian,” she said. “That was a long time ago. You can’t keep ignoring him forever!” Then her face relaxed back into a friendly expression and she uncrossed her arms, throwing one around Rythian’s neck and drawing him in closer. “Besides,” she mock whispered, “I know you still have him on your friends list.”

“Of course he does,” Ravs joined in, quirking a half-smile in the enderbane’s direction. “As if Ryth would ever completely block one of his best friends. He’s too much of a softy for that, eh?”

Rythian huffed a disgruntled sigh, rolling his eyes. Then he said, so softly, “I guess you’re right.”

Ravs grinned, exchanging a delighted look with Zoey. Teep watched, his expression unreadable.

 

* * *

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Classes mentioned:
> 
>  
> 
> **Engineer**  
> 
> 
>   * **Gunner** : Specialization involving the utilization of various long-range weapons. Most weapons are semi-automatic or fully automatic but relatively inaccurate, trading accuracy for power. Newly-created gunners will never spawn on a server farther back in time than the Industrial era.  
> 
> 

> 
> **Warlock**   
> 
> 
>   * **Stormcaller** : Specialization capable of manipulating energy relating to electricity and wind naturally, without the use of technical tools. Often employed in celebratory events due to their reliability in handling small, electricity-related jobs discreetly.  
> 
>   * **Ender Artificer** : Specialization based around the study and extermination of ender beings. As artificers grow in power, so too do their abilities connected to the End. 
> 

> 
> **Knight** : A class specializing in physical skills and battling in heavy armor; unable to spawn on modern servers  
> 
> 
>   * **Dragonslayer** : Specialization focused upon the killing of large beasts and creatures of immense power, typically involving the absorption of some property from the creature upon death; weapons range in size and shape and are limited only by the player's personal skill.  
> 
> 

> 
> **Ranger** : A class specializing in guerrilla or otherwise out of the ordinary tactics; the most varied of the base classes, capable of spawning on any server  
> 
> 
>   * **Shadow** : Specialization focused upon the the swift and silent killing of opponents, highly regarded as the best class for PvP (player versus player). Weapons are based entirely upon a player's discretion, and shadows are often mistaken for another class.  
> 
> 

> 
> **Brewmeister** : A limited-edition class, transferred to only a handful of people following an in-game contest at the launch of Oversoul. Based around the idea of transferring drunkenness into power, a Brewmeister is capable of expending power based upon the amount of alcohol consumed, making it a class that relies on proper inventory management.  
>  **Enderbane** : An advanced class based around utilizing the End's power. Recently discovered by Rythian, currently located on Mytilini Server, this class appears to be an evolved form of the original Ender Artificer class. This discovery prompts the question: Are there other classes capable of transforming into a stronger, previously undiscovered class with the proper triggers?


End file.
